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8 Inquiries
 
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Chapter 8 - Inquiries

Buffy was sitting in the living room with her knees in front of her and her feet drawn in close. Spike couldn’t tell if she was sulking or fuming. He sat down on the opposite end of the couch. “I straightened the office up. He’ll never know.”

“How could he do that? How could he not tell us?” she burst out. “God, anything could have happened! ‘I think this guy followed me on campus, Dad,’ ‘Oh honey, don’t be ridiculous,’” she mimicked. “If I’d known, really known, maybe I would have been more careful. But I had no clue. He didn’t give me the chance to.”

“You wanna confront him about it? Or tell your mum?”

“I don’t know.” She looked down.

“You wanna talk to the police?”

“I don’t know.”

Spike tilted his head. “We can have the Wat—Wesley look into it.”

Buffy stared into space.

“Buffy, whatever you want, I’ll do.”

She looked up. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, not that you’re normally not nice to me…”

“Way I see it, your father may be payin’ for it, but you’re the one I’m supposed to protect. So you’re the one I’m workin’ for. Whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s right to do, what I should do. I just want it all to go away,” she said in a small voice. “Can you do that?”

“Sorry, pet.”

“Is Wesley is the guy Dad talked to?”

“Yeah. Runs a detective agency. He knows stuff, knows people.”

“How much would it cost for him to detect something? I don’t have much of my own, but—”

“I expect,” Spike cut in, “that he’s already lookin’ into it on his own, even if just a bit. He’s thorough that way. And he suspected somethin’ wasn’t right.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good, right? I mean, did he find anything?”

He shrugged. “Some stuff about stocks, and fudgin’ on the taxes.”

“Were you going to tell me any of this?”

“Didn’t see a reason to.”

“Oh.” Her face fell.

“The old stuff, it doesn’t matter. But it’s not my place to go pointin’ fingers about what he might know or what he’s not tryin’ to figure out.”

“I guess. But if you hadn’t, then no one would.”

“You were already thinkin’ it.”

“Yay me,” she said flatly. “I added up what didn’t add up. And now I feel even worse.” Buffy sighed. “You’ll tell him—Wesley, about the pictures?”

“That I will.”

“Thank you.” She paused. “Do you think it’s a bad idea to go to the party?” she asked after a moment. “I really do want to go, but if Dad seemed weird about it, maybe I shouldn’t.”

“No worries. I won’t leave your side.”

Buffy turned wide eyes to him, shifting her position. “Are you even a real bodyguard?”

The question took Spike by surprise. “What makes you ask that?”

“I don’t know. It just seems like you’re not very bodyguardy. Not that I know a lot of bodyguards—or any. I just get the vibe that this isn’t really a profession.”

“Then you’d be right,” he admitted. “But it pays well. And I haven’t had any complaints so far.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re good at it and all. But what do you actually do?”

“I do whatever I’m paid to do. Earn some quick cash, and then do whatever the hell I like.”

“Which is?”

He leaned in slightly. “Right now, I’m keepin’ you safe.”

Suddenly the door to the garage slammed. Buffy jumped, and a moment later her father appeared in the hallway. “You forget something?” she asked.

“They cancelled. Where’s your mother, her car wasn’t in the garage?”

“Something came up.” She shrugged. But he was already in his office, the door closing behind him.

Buffy turned to Spike. “And you said he wouldn’t be back!” she hissed.

“Can I put the telly on?”

She flopped against the cushions. “You gonna call the guy?”

“Not right now, I’m not, pet.”

“And this is just between us, and you’ll tell me whatever he says, right?”

“Right.”

“And you’ll tell me anything I should know?”

“Sure.”

She tossed him the remote. “Okay.”

-----

Over an hour later, they were still watching TV when the phone rang in her father’s office. Spike mentally perked up, though he kept his eyes trained on the screen.

“Hello?” Hank answered. Then his voice shifted. A subdued, “Yes.” Pause. “I will. You know I’m good for it.” Pause. “I’ll take care of it. I just need—”

An even longer pause. Try as he might, Spike couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end, not with the volume of Buffy’s show still on.

“This is between him and me. Just don’t—” Another pause. “I know he damn well is. I told you, I’m working on it.” Pause. “Of course I haven’t.”

Then the phone was slammed down.

Spike shifted, glancing at Buffy. She was still happily engrossed in her program, oblivious.

He let his thoughts drift to the girl for a moment, as well as the previous night.

Spike had been prepared for a somewhat regular night of following Buffy around, and had expected getting a few beers to be the highlight of his evening. Normally, he would have had more than a few, but he did have to stay alert. Still, he hadn’t considered dancing until the other girl had suggested it—it wasn’t his usual routine.

But it had felt so easy, Buffy’s warm body pressed against his as they flowed to the music. He remembered the way she seemed to melt into him as they’d danced, the way she felt beneath his hands.

He had decided that there were far worse ways to spend an evening.

She seemed to think so as well, based on the length of time she’d happily stayed in his arms. She didn’t seem opposed to his company at other times, either.

He could admit that he found her attractive. But there was more to it than that. If she were only pretty, it would be easy enough to dismiss her out of hand. But there was something about Buffy that appealed to him…

Spike stopped himself, for several reasons.

One being that their situation was temporary. Seeing her afterward would inevitably bring up certain complications.

And while he found himself somewhat drawn to her, there had never really been anyone for him since his dark princess. No other vampire could hold his interest long-term, and human girls were nothing but one night stands that tended to end messily, for the girl’s part. For his part, there was no other way for it to end. Vampire, after all.

As for Buffy, he was being paid handsomely to protect her, which meant that she needed to end up alive when all was said and done.

Spike kept business separate.

Even if that weren’t the case, a long-term relationship of any sort with a human was something that he knew rarely went well, and he wasn’t looking to use her to test one. After this was finished, he wasn’t going to see her again. Things wouldn’t end well, otherwise.

With that, his thoughts turned to something that had been lingering on his mind since it had happened.

Slayer.

The whisper drifting through the air, spoken by some unseen thing. He’d tensed, and she’d squeezed his arm and asked what it was.

Nothing, he’d said.

It was an odd coincidence, perhaps, but not related to Buffy. Those that were after her were clearly human, as was she. There was no way this lively yet frightened girl had anything to do with the Slayer.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to confirm a few things with the Watcher.

-----

Later that evening when Spike was sprawled out on the couch in his own room, he picked up his phone and dialed Wesley’s number.

“It’s Saturday night, Spike,” he answered. “And this is my cell phone.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t care.”

“This is presumably about Miss Summers?”

“You heard anything about the Slayer?”

A pause. “What?”

“The Slayer? Anything interesting?” he asked, putting one hand behind his head.

“Not since my dismissal,” Wesley said tersely.

“C’mon, Watcher, I doubt you just dropped it.”

“I did. What the Slayer does or doesn’t do is no longer my concern. Why, Spike?”

“Well, that’s my business, innit?”

“No. I am familiar with your history.”

“I’m not goin’ huntin’ for her, if that’s what you think.”

Silence.

“Look, is she still alive, or not?” Spike asked, becoming irritated.

“I don’t speak with anyone from the Council, but as far as I know she is.”

“That’s all I needed, mate. Now Buffy, on the other hand, found some surveillance photos of herself in her old man’s office.”

“Ah. Well, that does support the theory that he knows more than he’s divulged.”

“Buffy offered to hire you herself to find out what dear old dad’s hiding.”

“Were there any threats?”

“No writing, just the pictures.”

“I’m afraid there’s not much to go on for any sort of investigation,” he said. “I haven’t uncovered anything else besides what I already gave you, though I haven’t devoted much additional time to it.”

“Well, I just overheard pops on the phone. He owes someone money. And he seemed to be takin’ it very personally.”

“I see. Have there been any other attempts on her?”

“No.”

“Any surveillance you’ve noticed?”

“Not unless they’re really keepin’ their distance.”

Wesley paused. “I suppose I could look into it further. Is that all?”

“Yeah.”

This time, the Watcher hung up on him.
 
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